War is Barnacles
by Yogurt-Time
Summary: In the trenches of war, Spongebob reflects on just when everything had gone wrong.


**I actually wrote this a long time ago, and I figured now was the perfect time to bring it back.**

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Amidst the firing, and the exploding grenades, he could still manage to hear his comrades.

"Those filthy microscopic pigs... I'll have a dozen of their heads on a pike before this war is done"...

_If this war will ever be done_, the young private thought to himself.

Ducked behind a trench that was dug in the sand since no longer than a day ago, ears deafened by the ceaseless cacophony of exploding metal and pained cries of men, the private, just a mere boy with a potentially long life ahead of him, wondered what had driven him to partake in this seemingly unending bloodbath.

It was only a month ago; at least, if the trauma of this war had not marred his memory of that event, that he decided to leave home and serve his fellow sea-folk by fighting against the dictator nation that was known as "the Plankton".

Even now, fighting the urge to shiver in the cold, muddy sand, it warmed his heart by just a little whenever he thought of his mother, back at his home in Bikini Bottom. Vividly, he could remember his mother's sorrowful parting words...

"I can't let you go, Spongebob! Because of this war, I've already lost my husband, your father, and I'm not willing to lose all I have left of this family!", implored Mrs. Squarepants, tears soaking her soft, porous face.

But her son was adamant, strong and unyielding as an anchor stationed on the sea bed. "I gotta fight in the war, Mom! I want all of Bikini Bottom to be proud of me for saving our land from those gosh-darned Plankton! And besides, Patrick's joining, and he's not even old enough!"

"Spongebob, this isn't a game!" Mrs. Squarepants's mood had shifted from distraught to indignant in an instant. "I don't care if that barnacle-headed Patrick Star joined! If Patrick jumped off the coral reefs, would you jump too?"

Spongebob repayed his mother's sudden abrasion in kind. "As a matter of fact, Mom, I would! In fact, me and Patrick jumped off the coral reefs last Tuesday! I had more fun that day than the time I had to do Squidward's shift at the Krusty Krab!"

Silence ensued for a brief moment, which the young sponge took as a sign that the discussion was over. He was already at the doorstep when he heard his mother call out.

"Spongebob Squarepants!... If you die out there in the war, I'll never forgive you! But at the same time, never forget that your mother loves you... very much... and always will...", she responded, once again in tears.

The square young man also felt the urge to shed tears, but to prove to his mother that he was fit for fighting for his land, he fought them back with all the effort he had.

"I love you too, Mom. Take care of Gary for me..."

Fuelled by determination and love for his country, he then ran as fast as he could, screaming out a vehement "I'M READY!"

But, as he had now learned, he was not ready at all for this struggle. His initial visions of glorious victory over the oppressive Plankton and being hailed as one of many courageous warriors who fought for the freedom of Bikini Bottom were quickly discarded and burned, leaving the blackened remnants of his disillusioned reality; spilled blood, searing-hot shells of metal and gunpowder, and many men, a lot barely older than himself, and some he even knew from before the war, weeping and sobbing like nightmare-afflicted children. In a sense, such a thing would not really be seen as inappropriate; to these youths yet to reach their prime, this ordeal was worse than any nightmare they could ever find in their sleep, or rather, whatever sleep they could hope to seek at this time...

"Private Spongebob! Look sharp, me boy! This is no time for a snail-nap!"

After almost two days without getting a significant amount of rest, Spongebob was becoming increasingly prone to drowsing, his physical body clearly reaching its threshold. Only when his commanding officer, Sergeant Eugene Krabs, gave him orders, would he snap back into focus. After all, he had been serving under the grizzled crustacean since he was a fry cook at the Krusty Krab. As far as the sponge was concerned, following orders from Krabs was second nature to him, whether handling a spatula or a rifle.

Even in the thick of battle, the sergeant indulged in small talk with his soldiers.

"Those microscopic parasites are tenacious, I'll give them that. But deep down, they're yeller-bellied cowards, softer than sea worms. Especially their leader... Sheldon the Oppressive, they call him, but he doesn't even have the britches to fight in his own war! He's probably sitting back, drinking his priceless kelp wine while his soldiers do his dirty work for him! But we'll show him, won't we, Spongebob?"

"Aye, aye, cap'n Krabs!" Spongebob replied in almost automatic response.

Sergeant Krabs chuckled, "I like your spirit, boy, argh-argh-argh! But you'll need more than that if you don't want a sudden trip to Davy Jones's Locker!"

The crimson crab's gruff, yet jovial demeanor eased Spongebob's nerves. It was fortunate of him to have a commanding officer whom he had known since before the war. The private then looked to his left, where he saw another soldier reaching into his pocket. Curious as a newly born seahorse, Spongebob gradually edged his way over to his companion.

The young man who was searching his uniform pockets was none other than Private Spongebob's childhood friend, Private Patrick Star. Ever since they had been drafted to this war zone, the pink starfish had always done a good job of rousing Spongebob's morale; they had promised one another that they would help to secure victory against the minute hands of their Plankton foe.

But, to Spongebob at least, it appeared that the ongoing slaughter on both sides had taken its toll on Patrick's happy-go-lucky temperment. The star-shaped boy had metamorphosed from a dim-witted but excitable urchin, and then subsequently had become more brooding and reclusive with each passing day (although, in honesty, Spongebob could no longer tell when a day had passed, the sky in this area appeared a perpetual, dull gray at all times.)

Private Patrick then produced the item he was searching for, something long, thin and white. It was a bubble-blowing stick.

Dipping the stick into his rationed amount of bubble soap, Patrick inhaled with vigor, before exhaling into the ringed end of the stick, producing a wafting flow of bubbles. It was rather humbling to Spongebob that, even in this grim, morose era of their lives, they were able to find a small shard of solace in that one mundane practice of blowing bubbles. However, Patrick seemed to be doing this for quite longer than Spongebob normally observed, which prompted him to comment. "Patrick, aren't you meant to be saving your bubble soap?"

Patrick, after having expended his last drop of soap, looked at Spongebob in an aloof manner that would have seemed uncaring, had Spongebob not known of his recent change in personality. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he spoke.

"Y'know, Spongebob, I'm kinda getting bored of this... I wish I could just crawl back under my rock, but I can't because of those stupid Plankton. So I decided I'll find a different rock."

"Different rock?" Spongebob did not quite comprehend.

"A rock, way up in the sky... It'll be perfect, I'll never have to worry about Plankton, or grumpy old Lieutenant Tentacles or having to eat dried coral, ever!"

And then, Private Patrick did the unthinkable. He arose from the trench, making himself an obvious target for the enemy lines. Spongebob, too shocked to move a muscle, could not believe what kind of stunt his childhood friend could be pulling. As soon as he saw what came immediately afterwards, he realized the reason for Patrick's sudden melancholy...

The stocky sea star grunted heavily in pain as the incoming bullets continually assaulted him like hungry scallops spying a morsel of food. Dazed from the onslaught of artillery, he fell backwards into the trench. His vision was obscured by both blood and dizziness, but he was just able to discern the yellow shape in his gradually fading field of vision.

"Patrick! Patrick! Stay with me, buddy!..."

"Spongebob... my friend... don't forget... we're all *cough* Goofy *hack* Goobers... *cough-cough*..."

Spongebob could no longer feel the warmth of Patrick's body. And so too did his heart grow a little colder.

_War is barnacles,_ he thought to himself.


End file.
